Jack-312
by OfficialWeedTesterGuy
Summary: A survivor of Reach fights the Covenant, or what's left of it, on an unknown space station. One-shot.


Jack B-312

November 21, 2582

UNSC Infinity

"30 seconds to drop, get ready Spartan."

Jack sighed, adjusting his Recon helmet, as he sat in the drop pod, across from his pod-mate, a HAVOK-class nuke, or Bob, as he had written on the side with a black marker, along with a smiley face. The nuke would be his-semi permanent pod mission partner, until he placed Bob inside of the grav-lift, and run like hell. This whole damn mission had been crazy. 30 years after the Human-Covenant war had ended, and the Elites were still a problem. Sure, he'd fought a few battles on Sanghelios, ending Jul Mdama's faction, (and earning an energy sword from the Arbiter himself) but some still loyal to the Prophets still existed.

Until today.

UNSC Battlegroup Omega had tacked down a final remnant of the Covenant, at the weirdest place.

The locals called it the Citadel, according to Roland.

They had chased the Prophet's Sword for weeks, until they caught up with their small fleet, attacking some kind of space station. Located in the middle of some nebula, with 5 arms sticking out, and a ring in the middle. And of course it was inhabited. The locals didn't seem harmful, at least not yet. The Covenant remnant had attacked the locals, who had god-awful weaponry (ass defect or something like that) that had done absolute Jack Shit against the Covenant's ships, and had their defense fleet absolutely ass raped. Thankfully, the battlegroup, along with Infinity, would do a fine job. Except, one ship had "landed" on the station, on one of the arms, and had surrounded itself with an energy shield, protecting it from aerial fire. That's where he'd come in. The pod would drop him near the shield, he'd penetrate it, and throw the nuke up the conveniently exposed grav-lift the Covenant were using, and run. The nuke would destroy the ship, and nothing else. Last thing they needed was dropping a nuke on potential friends. The pod dropping called the Spartan back to reality, as it detached from Infinity, and fell towards its destination. The battle overhead recalled Jack's fights on Reach, Earth, and many other places during the Great War, one of the few Spartan-IIIs to make it out. Thankfully, due to revamped Forerunner medical technology, recovered from the Ark post-war, his life and well-being had drastically improved, like the rest of humanity. He readied his assault rifle and shotgun, as well as his energy sword, and the extra pistol he'd swiped from the armory. The pod slowed, slamming into the alleyway. Jack grabbed the nuke, attached it to his back, and rushed out, scanning for hostiles. He didn't see any, only bodies, scarred by plasma, at least that's what they looked like. There were several kinds of bodies there. There were the...bird things, with the weird silver shell, the blue-and-purple supermodel look-alikes, the horned amphibians, and….fucking jellyfish. Because of course. He rushes out of the alleyway, getting a glimpse at the city. Arrays of silver buildings for as far as they eye could see, littered with shops and walkways. As he proceeded cautiously down the road, thoughts went through his mind, scarred by war and loss, thanks to the Elites, and wondered if all alien life could've been that bad. He, for all he'd seen and experienced, never really held a grudge against aliens. The way he saw it, after the war, the humans needed friends now, more than ever… He heard a noise from one of the shops, something falling, and skittering. He pulled out his shotgun, and cautiously advanced into the store, searching for the potential enemy, checking his quarters. It was filled with fish...alien fish. Wow. This day just kept getting better and better. The sound popped up again, this time from the cashier. He took a breath, and leaped out, ready to blast his foe into oblivion. Only there was no foe. A...kid. He thought. One of those bird things. A...guy, maybe? It was curled up into the fetal position, chirping like crazy. "Hey, little guy." "Where's your family?" Seeing the huge armored creature approaching him, the kid cringed even further, trying to shrink into a tiny space that wasn't there. He wasn't even sure if the kid could understand him. As his armored hand touched the child's talon, a roar pierced the silence, and a Zealot broke through the glass, energy sword drawn. The kid chirped (the fuck?) and dashed behind the desk. Jack growled, pulling out his sword. "A demon...here? Of course. And with a sword, no doubt. Taken from the honorable ones." No time for talking. With a roar, he, along with hundreds of pounds of humanity's finest armor and strength charged the Zealot. He smashes the creature head-on, like a football tackle, only a football tackle does not hit you with enough kinetic force equivalent to a Warthog going at 100 miles an hour. The wall shatters like glass, and the two fall off the walkway, plummeting down towards the street, where the battle is being waged. "Puny human! You will not win!" The Elite pulls out a plasma dagger, attempting to gut the Spartan. They trade blows in mid air, each countering each other. "No...you!" They hit the ground, sending a shockwave that shatters the nearby windows. The Elite is no more, used as a cushion to soften his fall. "And that, hinge-head, is why Sir Isaac Newton….is the deadliest son-of-a-bitch in space!" He collects his sword, but there's no time to clean the Sangheili blood off of him. His comm briefly stutters. "Nice tagline, Spartan. Though I could do better." Roland. "Roland. There you are. Where the hell have you been?" "Breaking into these alien's poor excuse for cyber-security." 'You could've helped me back there!" "Please. You had that one. Anyway, I've downloaded what looks like a translator. So maybe next time you babysit, you can maybe not petrify the little alien?" "Where'd you learn how to talk like that, Majestic?" "C'mon, Six-" "Don't call me that." 'Hey, hey, what? Your old callsign?" "You. Do not. Call me that. Understand?" "Fine, fine, geez. Aside from that note, I've got a map for you. Something called the Presidium is where the grav-lift is. Sending you a map now." "Thanks, Red Baron." "Quiet, you." He loads his AR, and follows the designated path. Six. That name…. He shrugged off the thought as he slipped into the elevator shaft, and roped down. This place was too….human. Cars, elevators, pet stores? It just seemed...not alien enough. "Okay," Roland interjects, "Right across there, there it is." The grav-lift is highlighted on his HUD. In the middle of….is that a fucking lake? Of course. It had to be in the middle of a lake. Guarded by Wraiths and Hunters. Spectacular. He sneaks down a staircase, and hears gunfire. "Shit, they've seen me!" He hides behind a crashed car, to see a group of those bird things shooting at the Covies. "Roland, who are those guys?" "They're called C-SEC, apparently. Some kinda police force. And those 'bird things' are called turians. Just so you know." "Can I speak to them?" "Think so. Hope that translator works." "Thanks. That's what I thought." He kneels down, and grabs Bob. Well, buddy, it was good talkin' to ya. Hope you had fun playing piggyback. He sets the timer. 5 minutes.

The next few minutes go by in a flash for Spartan Jack. He charges behind the line of officers, now with more of those blue things, with an oddly-dressed trio of one of those amphibians, the blue thing, and the bird creature, in fancy-looking clothing. He jumps over their line, emptying his shotgun and assault rifle at the Covenant, clearing out a few Elites and grunts. His translator picks up a few generic responses from the aliens, like "Woah", and "Hey", and "Who is that guy?" But he doesn't care. That bomb is all that matters. He slams another mag into his rifle, clearing out a tower's worth of Jackals. One of the space cops is yelling at him, but it's blurred out by the hunters' roar. Shit. He grabs a grenade, and runs at the hunter with full speed, sling between its legs at the last minute. He pulls out his sword, stabbing it in the back, and using it as a foothold to jump, grabbing the titan's neck. It tries to shake him off, but it's too late. He thrusts the grenade into the hunter's neck, pulling the pin, and doing a backflip, just for the creature's head to explode, spewing dead worms and green blood all over the place. A Gushing Granny, the soldiers called it. Like those apples back home. The hunter's battle brother, enraged, swats at the Spartan, sending him flying towards the grav-lift. He has just enough strength to throw the bomb, sending it flying into the lift, becoming a little black dot as it shoots into the sky, reaching its destination. He collapses at the edge of the lift, HUD fuzzy, and multiple armor breaches. He looks down, and sees a drip of blood coming from his chest. He groggily reaches for his pistol, a last stand, as before on that damned shipyard, waiting for hunter to strike, but it never does. A single sniper shot rings out, a spew of green liquid as the hunter collapses, writhing in pain as it dies. It's one of those avian creatures. "Scoped and dropped!" The translator receives. Smiling, the Spartan slowly staggers over to the creature, who raises his gun at him,as do his friends. "Who are you? What are you? Identify yourself!" "R-run." "What?" He chuckles, blood sputtering out of his throat. "Run."

The bomb goes off.

One minute, the Covenant ship is intact, a shining behemoth of purple. Then, it fractures into a thousand pieces, shattering with a white-purple explosion. The spiked creatures' mandibles flare, realizing what's happening. He beckons for his friends to go, but it's too late for Jack. Smiling and chuckling, he gets on his knees, taking in the sunset and peace he's hoped for for so long before a flaming Banshee envelops him. A last thought goes through his head, one from an old friend. "Better get going, Six. They're going to need you down there."

"Tell them to make it count." 

Several Hours Later

"Spartan….Spartan...come in, Spartan!" He jolts awake, he's...not dead. Damn, he's evaded death. Again. He tries to move his arms, but they're stuck under the rubble. His work, of course, no less. He'd wanted to die. To die, once and for all, to leave it all behind. Besides the other survivor, he didn't have anyone else. "Hey! Hey! Over here!" He hears a voice call. The top piece of rubble begins to shift, glowing with some kind of energy field. It's pulled off him, and it's one of those blue things, staring at him, with shock. "Hey! It's over here, that thing!" More voices can be heard, and the weight is eventually lifted off him. He gets up, slightly staggering, recovering from his second near-death experience. He looks around. He's surrounded by a crowd of aliens, that don't want to kill him, for once in his life. Sangheili don't count. The bug-eyed orange creatures, the blue woman things, the bird creatures, and…space cows? Shit. He smiles, and begins to walk forward, the crowd clearing a path for him. The crowd starts to cheer for him, the words hero and savior flung about. At the end of the crowd is that trio again, being led by the foremost one, the blue woman, with the fancy dress. She extends her hand, visibly shaking with...fear? She soon composes herself, and smiles. "Where are my manners? Um, allow me to introduce myself. Matriarch Tevos, Citadel Council. And you are?" Behind the helmet, he grins. "They call me...Noble Six."


End file.
